


What Helps A Headache

by Love_The_Hustle_Trust_The_Luck



Category: Samurai Love Ballad Party - Fandom, voltage - Fandom, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, I love a good bad man, Toshihisa makes me weak, Toshiie in name only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 05:33:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_The_Hustle_Trust_The_Luck/pseuds/Love_The_Hustle_Trust_The_Luck
Summary: Toshihisa self medicates in the very best way





	What Helps A Headache

Toshihisa bitched his way out of his bedding. His damnable head was aching. Again. Always, it seemed.

He got to his feet, his balance was challenged by the migraine, his sight even worse. Placing his hand to the side of his head he pushed his fingers firmly into his temple. Always the one side, pure agony.

He sighed and made his way to the door, that when opened would take him onto the veranda that wrapped the main house. The air would be cold, bitingly so, and he hoped that between that and the lateness of the hour he would be afforded isolation. Some time alone with just his pounding head and his wayward thoughts.

It’s not that he wasn’t happy to see his younger brother. He was, truly. He and Toshiie got along very well these days. It was only that where Toshiie went, that woman followed. That awful woman, with her naivety and her laugh like sunshine.

She didn’t belong here, in a samurai house. She belonged back in the capital in that little restaurant, cooking and smelling lovely and generally keeping out of his way.   
With her hair, the color of the moment between dusk and night, braided and put up on her head. Not hanging loose, falling over her shoulders as she bent over him, brushing, tickling, his naked chest. Or better yet, wrapped around his hand as he entered her from behind, her luscious backside red from several well placed slaps.

He cleared his throat, and took a deep, bracing breath. And then he noticed her, A ways away, face turned up to the sky, entranced, it seemed, by the moon. She stood stone still, mouth slightly parted, her breath puffing out between her full lips. Her hair was mussed as if she too had been roused from sleep, spilling to her lower back in thick waves.

She wore what he wore, a thin sleeping robe, no slippers as if she hadn’t planned to be outside long but had been caught the the night sky’s web. Her hands gripped the wooden rail of the veranda and she leaned forward as if to catch a glimpse of something in the inky darkness.

His bare feet took him to her, steps silent on the well used wooden planks.

Her startled gasp as he pressed his chest against her back, placing his hands on either side of her own on the rail, was something he would cherish forevermore.

“What are we looking at?” he whispered, his lips brushing the chilled pink shell of her ear.

“Toshihisa?” She squeaked.

He sighed, his breath causing a lock of her hair to flit and twist.

“I asked you a question,” he demanded.

“Fireflies,” she responded. “We don’t see them much in the city.”

Her sharp intake of breath as he pressed tighter against her pleased him. He leaned, his superior height allowing him to curl around her, and stared in the direction she indicated.

He saw nothing, but if she thought she saw fireflies, then he’d allow her her delusion.

“Yes,” he murmured, “I see.”

He brought his hand to his temple again, the strain of searching for nonexistent bugs causing the demon in his head to roar.

He snaked his other arm around her waist, pulling her tightly back into his hips. The thin cotton of their robes doing little to disguise the hard length that burned against her lower back. He held her firmly. Had she wanted to get away, he’d have let her, but she made no effort to flee and he made even less of an effort to separate himself from her warmth.

She’d come with Toshiie, true, but were she with him, she’d be sharing a room with him. A bed. And in fact, she wasn’t.

It was that thought that allowed him to start bunching her robe in his hand.

“Toshihisa?” His name was nothing more that a quiet squeak on her lips, her shins exposed to the cold air as he clutched the material in his fist, inching it up her skin.

“Why do you come here?” He demanded baring her knees.

“It’s not to be with Toshiie,” he continued dropping his hand from his temples and allowing his fingertips to brush the silky skin of both her warm, bare thighs.

She whimpered softly. The sound set something inside his chest aflame, but he wrapped it up tight, keeping himself under control.

“I’m getting tired of having to ask things twice,” he whispered pulling her robe open, parting the material around the curve of her hips, the still tied belt keeping the thing out of his way and probably in one piece.

He flattened one of his hands against her lower stomach pressing her against his hips even tighter. He could barely bite back his hiss as he rocked his hard length between them. 

“Why?” he demanded, his voice deeper, hardly above a rasp. He felt the shiver that ran from the crown of her head and down her spine.

He trailed a finger from his other hand along her now uncovered slit. Lightly, testing. When she parted her legs without his prompting, her hands clutching the railing he knew the why of it.

“I think you come to see me. Not to be with my brother. But to be with me,” he murmured thickly. He palmed her core, rubbing circles with the heel of his hand.

Her pink tongue flicked along her bottom lip and she nodded, though the way she bloomed under his hand answered him more affirmatively than anything else would.

He parted her center and stroked a lazy finger between her swollen lips. She bucked wildly when he reached the small bundle of nerves that would have his attention.

“It’s always been you,” she murmured in a breathless voice. “Inu… is a … friend only.” She could barely force out the words between soft gasps.

She wouldn’t see the slight smirk that sat on his lips. Nor the small nod of his head indicating that it had always been her for him too. Instead he rewarded her by sliding two of his fingers into her wet center, pulling them out and then returning deeply inside her.

She sagged but his grip around her ribs kept her back pressed to his chest even as his other hand worked her core.

He would have gone slower, gentler, perhaps, had she not responded so beautifully to this hard, fast treatment of her. His thumb found its place on her and she ground herself against him.

He dropped his chin, sinking his teeth into her shoulder sharply, then lapping against the bite. He’d not draw her blood, but she’d wear his mark.

She began to shake and he had to readjust his hold on her to keep her with him, her lips were parted and she whimpered and gasped in rapid succession.

He pulled his hand from her flesh completely, relishing the way she cried out in disappointment. He chuckled, running his tongue along her ear as the moved his one hand from her hip to use his fingers to spread her for him, dripping and ready.

He let the stinging air hit her overheated flesh before bringing his other hand around to her center again, this time worshiping only her slick nub.

His fingers were relentless and rough, rubbing and pinching. Her head fell back against his chest and his name left her lips in a rush.

Her release drenched his fingers. Fire hot, she dripped from his hands, tiny pools of pleasure hitting the wooden floor at her feet.

Toshihisa didn’t stop his ministrations until she was limp and panting, her knees unable to hold her weight.

He pulled a deep breath in through his nose, the scent of her overriding the burn of the frigid air in his nostrils.

“You did very well,” he praised her, pulling the two sides of her robe together around her, covering her. He pressed a kiss against her temple and finally stepped away from her, moving to return to his room.

“Toshihisa?” her questioning voice stopped him. “Why?”

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking, sucking, them clean as she watched.

“They say an orgasm is good for a headache,” he replied. He smirked at her, but his eyes held fondness in them. And a promise.

He escaped back into his room, watching her as he slid the door closed between them.


End file.
